Act Four, Scene ThreeEnter the King, Arundell, the two Spencers, with others.
Thus after many threats of wrathfull warre, Triumpheth
Englands Edward with his friends,
And triumph Edward with his friends uncontrould.
My lord of Gloster, do you heare the newes ?
What newes my lord ?
Why man, they say there is great execution
Done through the realme, my lord of Arundell
You have the note, have you not?
From the lieutenant of the tower my lord.
I pray let us see it, what have we there?
Read it Spencer. Spencerreads their names.
Why so, they barkt a pace a month agoe,
Now on my life, theile neither barke nor bite.
Now sirs, the newes from Fraunce. Gloster, I trowe
The lords of Fraunce love Englands gold so well,
As Isabella Isabell Q1-4, Dd1- gets no aide from thence.
What now remaines, have you proclaimed, my lord,
Reward for them can bring in Mortimer?
My lord, we have, and if he be in England,
A will be had ere long I doubt it not.
If, doost thou say? Spencer, as true as death,
He is in Englands ground, our port-maisters
Are not so careles of their kings commaund.
Enter a Poaste.
How now, what newes with thee, from whence come these ?
Letters my lord, and tidings foorth of Fraunce,
To you my lord of Gloster from Levune.
Spencer reades the letter.
My dutie to your honor premised, &c. I have according to instruc-
tions in that behalfe, dealt with the king of Fraunce his lords, and
effected, that the Queene all discontented and discomforted, is
gone,whither if you aske, with sir John of Henolt, brother to the
Marquesse, into Flaunders: with them are gone lord Edmund, and
the lord Mortimer, having in their company divers of your nation,
and others, and as constant report goeth, they intend to give king
Edward battell in England, sooner then he can looke for them:
this is all the newes of import.
Your honors in all service, Levune. Edward
A villaines, hath that Mortimer escapt?
With him is Edmund gone associate?
And will sir John of Henolt lead the round ?
Welcome a Gods name Madam and your sonne,
England shall welcome you, and all your route.
Gallop a pace bright Phoebus through the skie,
And duskie night, in rustie iron carre:
Betweene you both, shorten the time I pray,
That I may see that most desired day,
When we may meet these traitors in the field.
Ah nothing greeves me but my little boye,
Is thus misled to countenance their ils.
Come friends to Bristow, there to make us strong,
And windes as equall be to bring them in,
As you injurious were to beare them foorth.